


Hurt So Good

by Suzie_Shooter



Category: Alex Rider (TV 2020), Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canonical Character Death, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, First Time, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Masturbation, Rape Fantasy, Rough Sex, fantasising, risky sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suzie_Shooter/pseuds/Suzie_Shooter
Summary: Written for the prompt: Yassen comes to the Rider home to kill Ian and notices Alex. Knowing Alex can't be allowed to go free because he's seen his face, Yassen kidnaps him. Alex is furious at Yassen for kidnapping him, but he's equally furious at Ian that his entire life has been a lie, and strangely drawn to the assassin. Eventually, it all leads to sex. Alex puts up a fight out of pride and principle, knowing Yassen will win and glad of it, turned on at being fucked by the man who's killed the person who has been lying to him his entire life and telling himself he doesn't have to feel guilty about enjoying it if Yassen is forcing him. Yassen eventually lets him go, satisfied that Alex won't talk. Except...Yassen has thoroughly ruined him for normal sex. He can't get off unless he's being forced or fantasizing about being raped. He spirals, seeking out dangerous sex with dubious people, desperately trying to find Yassen again. He develops an obsession with the man who violated him, taking every mission Blunt throws at him in the hopes he'll encounter Yassen.(Alex is sixteen at the start and eighteen at the end)
Relationships: Yassen Gregorovich/Alex Rider
Comments: 18
Kudos: 97
Collections: AR Fic Exchange 2020, Alex Rider Kinkmeme





	Hurt So Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ViolettaValery](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/gifts).



The quiet Chelsea street was dark and empty. All the houses with lights showing had their curtains firmly closed against the night, and there was nothing to indicate that come the morning the road would be teeming with police officers and security agents. 

Nobody noticed the two shadows making their way to the door of one of the houses. It was the work of a moment to gain entrance, and once inside the two men both drew out guns. 

“His office is on the top floor,” offered Martin Wilby in a stage whisper that carried all the way down the hall.

His companion looked at him sourly. Yassen Gregorovich had argued against being lumbered with Wilby for this mission, but his superiors had argued that making him complicit would guarantee Wilby’s silence more effectively than if he’d simply provided Rider’s address.

Yassen gestured to the stairs with his gun and Wilby looked alarmed. 

“Why do I have to go first?” 

Yassen gave him a tired look. “If Ian’s armed, and sees me first, he will shoot on sight. If he sees you, he will hesitate. That second is all I need.”

Reluctantly Wilby mounted the stairs. There was a radio playing somewhere and Yassen frowned. It was a local London station, playing current chart music. It didn’t strike him as Ian’s taste, but Wilby had been sure that Ian had no partner or children. He could be wrong of course, and that was another reason for making him go first. 

Yassen didn’t like feeling uneasy. He half wondered if they should abort the mission – but Ian would notice the door had been forced making a second attempt more difficult, and it was only a radio after all.

Just as they reached the top of the stairs Ian Rider stepped out of his office and recognised Wilby with some considerable shock.

“Martin? What the devil are you doing here?”

“Hello Ian, sorry the door was open so we let ourselves in.”

“We?” Ian looked behind him and froze as he recognised Yassen. “Oh Jesus, what have you done?” 

In the next instant he’d turned, intending to hurl himself back inside the office and grab the gun in his desk, but it was too late. Something slammed into his back and he went down, dead before he’d hit the floor.

Yassen sighed, rolled Ian over with his foot, then shot him again in the head for good measure. He didn’t trust body shots, these days. 

He was tucking away his gun when there was a noise behind him, a quiet, quickly stifled gasp of horror. Yassen looked round. Standing in the opposite doorway was a teenage boy, barefoot and sleep-tousled, wearing pyjamas.

He was deathly pale, frozen to the spot and staring at Ian’s body. He didn’t appear to pose an immediate threat and Yassen risked looking away from him to glare at Wilby. 

“You said Ian would be alone.”

“Yeah, well he should’ve been. Look it’s no bother, just shoot the kid too and let’s get out of here.”

Wilby sounded antsy, and the look Yassen was giving him wasn’t improving his peace of mind. 

Yassen had half-raised his gun when the boy broke from his horrified paralysis and looked up, face contorted with misery. “You’ve killed him. You killed my uncle. Why?” he moaned, ignoring the gun that was now pointing unwaveringly at him.

Unwavering, but unfired. Yassen, unusually for him, had hesitated.

“Your uncle?” He’d assumed that Wilby was wrong and the boy was Ian’s son after all. Or possibly his catamite, although he didn’t think Ian had been that interesting. 

The boy nodded, looking scared but defiant. 

“What are you waiting for?” Wilby snapped. “Kill him.”

“What? No!” The boy looked from Yassen to Wilby and back again. “I haven’t done anything!”

“What’s your name?” Yassen asked.

“What the fuck does it matter what his name is?” Wilby interrupted. “Shoot him and let’s get out of here!”

“Alex. Alex Rider. Who are you? Why are you doing this?” Alex sounded on the verge of tears, but he was also facing down two armed men and Yassen was faintly impressed. He’d had time now to process who the boy reminded him of, and the implications there. 

“We don’t need to kill him.” Yassen lowered his gun and Wilby stared at him in astonishment. 

“What are you talking about? He can identify us!”

“Do I look like I care?”

“You might not! I have to go back to work!” Wilby raised his own gun and aimed it at Alex who took a step backwards. “Fine. I’ll just have to do it myself.”

“Please. No!” A shot cracked out. Alex flinched back – and blinked. He was unharmed, and it was Wilby who was stretched out on the floor, a hole in the side of his head.

Yassen shook his head tiredly. This night was not going well. He wiped the gun clean of his own fingerprints and placed it in Wilby’s hand. It was unlikely to convince them that he’d shot Ian and then killed himself but it would certainly slow them down running the analysis. 

He picked up Wilby’s gun instead and looked at Alex. 

“So. What am I to do with you?”

Alex backed away. “Nothing. You don’t need to do anything with me. I’ll say it was him, I never saw you, I promise.”

Yassen sighed. “Oh, if only I believed that.” 

Alex turned and bolted. Before Yassen could react he was already past him and down the stairs, wrenching open the front door and dashing out into the night. 

In a matter of moments Alex was half way down the road, wishing he’d stopped for shoes but knowing he would have been caught. Was he even being chased? He couldn’t hear footsteps behind him but then he couldn’t hear much over the pounding in his head. He wondered whether to yell for help or bang on a neighbour's door, but if nobody answered it would waste precious time and he might even end up getting someone else killed. All Alex could think of was to get as far away as fast and as quietly as possible.

He ran out across the next road and something huge and fast bore down on him, a van moving at speed without lights.

Alex was conscious of a bone-numbing impact and then he was rolling over and over in the road. Winded, he fought to catch his breath and clear his vision. Someone was coming towards him. Would they help, had it been a genuine accident?

No. He recognised the man from the house. Alex tried to crawl away, grazing himself freshly on the tarmac. A shadow loomed over him, pushing his defensive hands away as something was pressed to his face.

Alex tried to struggle, tried to call for help, but everything was going blurry.

He was dimly aware of being lifted bodily and thrown into the back of the van. The man climbed in after him, and Alex had a terrified moment of wondering what he was going to do. Alex couldn't move, but he was still fuzzily conscious. There was a weight on his legs pinning him down and he tried to cry out, but all that escaped his lips was an unintelligible burble.

A cotton pad with a sharp chemical tang was held over his mouth and nose, and as he passed out completely he heard the man mutter, "Two to go under. Stronger than most."

–

When Alex came round he had a pounding head and was sore all over, but to his surprise was lying in a comfortable bed. He struggled into a sitting position, prior events coming back to him and acting like a shock of cold water. 

He was in a bedroom that he'd never seen before, wearing a pair of pyjamas that weren't his. A dried smear of something medicinal smelling on a scrape on his hand suggested he'd had his wounds tended to. The idea that he'd been stripped and handled made him uncomfortable and Alex ran a quick mental assessment, wondering sickly what else might have been done to him while he was unconscious, but other than a whole set of bruises from the van he seemed to be relatively intact. 

He finally looked up, and jumped. Sitting in a chair across from the bed, so quiet and still that Alex hadn't even noticed him, was the man who'd killed his uncle. 

Alex stared at him. The man stared back. Alex wondered what the hell was going on.

He was sitting in front of a window, which meant his face was in shadow. All Alex could see beyond was sky, which suggested they weren’t in central London any more. It was quiet too, with no traffic noise. 

Alex was getting irritated by the continued silence, and it was overriding his sense of self-preservation.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

“My name is Yassen. Yassen Gregorovich.”

Alex frowned. “Well thanks, that tells me everything I need to know.”

Yassen nodded slowly, as if Alex had confirmed something for him by not recognising the name. “It doesn’t really matter who I am. Does it?”

“It mattered to my uncle.”

“True.” Yassen steepled his fingers and watched Alex over the top, as if he was observing an interesting specimen. Alex glared. 

“Did you undress me?”

“I needed to check you over. You took a pretty hard smack.”

“Yeah, well, some arsehole ran me over.”

Yassen’s lips twitched. 

“Where are we?” Alex persisted.

“Somewhere we will not be found. I’ve been instructed to lie low for a while, until the fuss over your uncle dies down. If you behave, you will not be harmed. If you misbehave, I make no such promises. For the record, I have implanted a tracking chip. If you try to escape, I will find you. And I will punish you.”

“You’d have to catch me first,” Alex muttered.

“That would not be in doubt.”

Alex suppressed a shiver. He felt unpleasantly vulnerable sitting in bed knowing the man in front of him had undressed him, looked at him, touched him. 

And killed his uncle. Every few seconds the knowledge came back to slap Alex in the face all over again. 

“Why did you kill Ian?”

“I was paid to. It was nothing personal.” 

Alex found he believed him – but the more Yassen told him, the less he understood.

“Who would want him dead?” Alex asked, more confused than ever. “He wasn’t the kind of man who had enemies. He was boring. Normal.”

Yassen gave him a strange look. “You mean you really don’t know? What he was?”

“He worked for a bank.”

“No.”

“No? What do you mean no?”

“I mean, he didn’t work for a bank. He worked for the security services. Special Operations. He was a spy, Alex. As was his brother.”

Alex’s mouth dropped open. “His...are you saying my _father_ was a spy?” 

“John Rider?” 

“Yes.”

“Then yes.” Yassen got up as if suddenly bored by the conversation, but before he could leave Alex reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve. 

Yassen looked at him coldly and Alex dropped his hand quickly, but held his gaze. “You can’t tell me something like that and walk away. It’s not true anyway. It can’t be.”

“If you don’t believe me then there’s no point in saying any more,” Yassen retorted, but he made no further move to leave. “I’m sure if you think about it, you will be able to decide for yourself. Ian would have been unlikely to be able to hide everything.”

Alex was working through his memories and building a picture he didn’t like at all. The prolonged absences, the sudden departures, the phone calls at odd hours, the injuries Ian explained away by being accident prone and yet never hurt himself during any of the extreme sports he took Alex on.

He looked up at Yassen, who must have seen the dawning realisation in his face because he gave him a nod of confirmation that was almost sympathetic. 

“He lied to me. My whole life.” Alex didn’t know if he felt numb or angry. He knew it was probably just shock at the sudden bereavement, but he'd always thought of Ian as someone he could trust, someone he could confide in, lean on. The idea that this whole time he'd been lying to him was too big for Alex to take in. It didn't make sense - but at the same time it did.

Alex, to his shame, felt tears welling up behind his eyes and he dug his fingernails painfully into his arm. He was damned if he'd cry in front of this man, damned if he'd let Yassen think it was because of _him_. 

What somehow made it worse was that even a cold blooded murderer like Yassen apparently thought Ian’s behaviour had been questionable as well. 

“Sometimes the people you think care about you the most just – don’t,” Yassen said, sounding almost apologetic. “They lie. And they leave.” Yassen paused. “It doesn’t make it your fault.”

Alex blinked hard, not trusting himself to speak. 

"Perhaps I should leave you alone for a while. It will no doubt take some time to sink in." Yassen eyed him speculatively. "You are free to move around the house. Please do not go outside."

"Or what?" Alex retorted, taking refuge from misery in spiky anger. "I suppose you're going to tell me there are dogs."

Hoping he could goad the man into telling him the obstacles he would need to overcome to escape. But Yassen just shook his head.

"No dogs. Just me. If you attempt to leave, I will kill you. I suggest you don't." 

"So what, you're going to keep me as a pet?"

Yassen looked down at him with an unreadable expression. "I hope for your sake that you are house-trained. It would be a shame to have to confine you to a single room. Or to restrain you. For your own comfort, I recommend you behave."

"How long?" Alex called out, as Yassen moved towards the door. "How long are you going to keep me here?"

Yassen considered. "I'm not sure. As long as necessary. I haven’t quite decided yet, what I should do with you."

"If you're going to kill me anyway there's no point in me behaving," Alex pointed out.

"There are worse things than dying, little one. Do not make me demonstrate them to you."

With that he left, and Alex sank shakily back against the pillows.

After a few minutes had gone by without being disturbed, Alex slipped out of bed and crossed to the door. He winced as he put weight on his right foot, but was relieved to find his injuries were only superficial.

Despite Yassen's words he was still surprised to find the door unlocked, and opened it cautiously.

It lead into a hall with other doors leading off, with a plush carpet and a staircase visible at the far end. He was clearly upstairs in quite a large house, and Alex wondered if there were any other people here or if he was alone with Yassen. 

He closed the door again, wishing there was a key. He'd have felt marginally more secure if he could lock himself in. What if Yassen came back while he was asleep?

Alex crossed to the window and looked out. There was a neglected-looking formal garden below, then parkland running across to a wood in the far distance. No other buildings in sight. No people either. Alex felt very lonely. Had his uncle really been a spy, involved in the kind of things that got him killed? And were they about to get Alex killed as well? He felt an unexpected flare of resentment. Ian should have protected him, not endangered him like this.

There was a bathroom opening off the bedroom, and Alex splashed water on his face then stared at himself bleakly in the mirror. He looked pale and shocked, with a bloody scrape across one cheek. 

Recalling Yassen’s words, he stripped off his pyjamas and examined himself minutely trying to locate the tracker. He couldn't feel or see anywhere that looked like something might have been implanted, but then again he had no idea what he was looking for or how small it might be. 

Back in the bedroom Alex investigated the cupboards, but while there were some clean pyjamas in a drawer and a robe on the back of the door there were no proper clothes and no shoes. A deterrent against him trying to escape? It wouldn't stop him. He was determined to try and make a break for it as soon as possible. 

The idea he'd been fitted with a tracker was disturbing, but surely all he needed to do was escape away from the house and get to the nearest police station. Presumably his uncle's body - and the other man, Martin? - had been discovered by now. Jack was in America visiting family but there was a woman who was coming in daily to clean while she was away. Alex wondered how much time had passed. It was daylight outside but there was no clock in the room, and he didn’t have his watch or his phone. 

He wished suddenly he’d never come out of his room to investigate the voices on the landing. Yassen and Martin clearly hadn’t known he was there, they might have left again without ever seeing him. On the other hand, it was a guilty relief to know that this way he didn’t have to deal with two dead bodies. 

Alex wondered what would happen to him now he was alone in the world. The resentment of earlier was boiling into outright anger towards his uncle for putting him in this position and for never trusting him enough to tell him the truth. Even supposing he escaped from here, Alex realised he had nothing to go back to. 

Would the police even believe his story? They might suspect he was involved. Still, the first duty of every prisoner was to escape, right? He had to try. 

He put on the dressing gown over his pyjamas and opened the door into the hall. At least in bare feet he was noiseless, the thick carpet muffling all sound as he ran quickly to the stairs and down to the ground floor.

Alex found himself in a wide hallway, the carpet giving way to cold black and white tiles under his feet. He looked all around, again listening carefully. No sign or sound of anyone.

He crossed hurriedly to the front door, hoping that it wasn't locked. He reached out and grasped the handle - and the world went white. A current surged up his arm, locking his muscles, gritting his teeth painfully as he tried and failed to pull his fingers away from the metal lever.

Yassen's words came back to him - _if you try to escape I will kill you_ \- and Alex wondered if this time he was going to die. Finally the current shut off and he slumped to the ground, twitching slightly, as everything went mercifully black.

–

When he woke up he was back in the same bed. The dressing gown was back behind the door and Yassen was back in the chair beneath the window, drinking coffee. It was dark outside, and Alex wondered how long he'd been here now. 

Yassen eyed him with no visible emotion. "I did warn you." His tone was low, somewhere between amused and chiding. Alex found he was obscurely relieved. He'd expected anger. 

"You didn't tell me you'd electrified the bloody door knob!" Alex snapped, feeling he'd only been given half the rules. He didn't know why he should expect the man to play fair, but it offended his sense of justice.

"It must have come as quite the shock." Yassen sipped from his mug, ignoring Alex's indignant glare at the pun. "I have upped the current, incidentally. I wouldn't try it again, if I were you. Or the windows." 

"Sadist." 

Yassen raised an eyebrow. "If I was a sadist I'd have left the current on until you pissed yourself."

Alex made a face. 

"I hope we have established the ground rules," Yassen said quietly. "If you want to avoid unnecessary pain, you will not try to escape. I do not wish to kill you, but I will if you are more trouble than it’s worth. I do not wish to hurt you, but, again...you get the picture, yes?”

Alex stared at him mutinously. Yassen held his gaze, unblinking, until Alex gave him a reluctant nod.

“Good.” Yassen got to his feet. “If you are hungry there will be supper in an hour.”  
Alex stared at the door after he’d gone realising just how hungry he was. It had been over a day since he’d eaten he realised, although he’d spent most of that time unconscious.

After what he judged to be about an hour he made his way cautiously downstairs. There was an appetising smell of cooking coming from somewhere and Alex followed his nose into a large kitchen. The farmhouse-style pine table was set with two places. 

Alex had hoped there might be staff, someone else he could prevail upon to help him escape, but somewhat to his surprise Yassen had apparently done the cooking himself. 

“Ah, there you are.” Yassen carried two plates across and sighed at the look Alex gave him. “You can always take it to eat in your room if you prefer. I thought you might like company.”

He sat down himself and started eating. After a moment Alex warily joined him. 

There was so much Alex wanted to know that he didn’t know where to start. Nor did he have any reason to suppose Yassen would answer his questions, but on the other hand they were apparently pretending to be civilised, so he might as well ask. 

“Did you know my father?”

“Yes.”

Alex put down his fork again and stared. He hadn’t expected such a direct answer. He was slowly realising that not only had Ian lied about himself, but he’d lied about Alex’s father too. Everything he thought he’d known about his dead parents had been false and he suddenly hated Ian for all of it. 

“He was a spy?”

“He was a killer.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Yassen shrugged. “I worked with him, for a time. He mentored me.” The shock must have shown on Alex’s face, because he softened his tone. “He was not perhaps a good man in the sense that you would no doubt prefer. But I liked him, if that helps. I would have done anything for him.”

“Does that include not killing his son?” Alex asked hopefully, starting to eat again. He was starving, and the food was good. 

Yassen smiled slightly. “We’ll see. You’re still alive aren’t you?”

–

Back in his room after dinner Alex looked out over the darkened parkland and wondered again how to escape. It belatedly occurred to him that he was leaning on the window frame and he jerked back in instinctive panic, before conceding that if it had been electrified he’d already be dead. It was made out of wood anyway, an old-fashioned sash frame, and Alex examined it thoughtfully. Had Yassen only booby-trapped the ground floor? Did he assume nobody in their right mind would climb out of an upstairs window in their pyjamas in the middle of the night?

Alex lifted the sash, avoiding the metal hook just in case, and to his surprise found it opened quite easily. Outside the wall was covered by a vine on a trellis, its thick woody stems offering him a way down. Trying not to think about what would happen if it didn’t take his weight, Alex climbed out. 

He reached the ground a minute later, breathless and full of hope. The stone path was freezing under his bare feet, and Alex wondered if there were any out buildings where he might find some old boots. Working his way round to the drive at the front of the house, there was no sign of the van that had brought him here but there was a car and that gave him another idea. Ian had shown him how to hotwire an engine, maybe he could steal it.

The realisation hit him like a slap. Ian teaching him to hotwire a car and pick a lock. Teaching him methods of self-defence and attack, extreme sports, languages. Ian had been training him. He felt suddenly sick. He’d thought Ian had been cool. Instead he’d been what – _grooming_ him? Was Alex supposed to become like him? 

He felt hot tears pricking at his eyes again and forced them back. Escape first. Miserable breakdown later. 

He tensed, preparing to make the dash out into the open towards the car – and a shadow detached itself from the side of the house. Alex’s forward momentum was suddenly checked by an arm around his waist that threw him back against the wall and held him there.

A light came on above them and Alex flinched, half-blinded. 

“I thought I told you what would happen if you tried to escape?” Yassen still didn’t sound angry, and Alex was briefly furious. Did he think this was _funny_? He tried to struggle free but Yassen had him pinned too effectively, using the full length of his body from shoulders to groin. It was somehow less uncomfortable than it should have been. Alex was already chilled to the bone from the night air, and Yassen’s body was very warm.

“What should I do with you, Alex?” Yassen was musing. “Something to convince you I’m serious. Perhaps I should show you what happens to teenage boys who are out of their depth?”

“What do you mean?” Alex broke off as the realisation hit him. Pressed this close, he could hardly fail to notice. Yassen was getting hard. “Oh, Christ.” His voice was hoarse, and he immediately went still, staring into Yassen’s unblinking gaze.

To Alex’s relief, having satisfied himself Alex fully understood the unspoken threat Yassen merely frogmarched him back up to his room and this time locked the door. “Do stay indoors this time, yes? Next time you will not get a warning.”

Alex got shakily into bed, trying to process what had just happened. The memory of Yassen’s body pressed against him was less of a deterrent than Yassen had probably expected. He wondered, if Yassen was attracted to him, could he use that? Alex felt his own treacherous dick twitch with interest. It was a terrifying but guiltily arousing idea. Could he get him to lower his guard long enough to – what? Alex had confidence in his own fighting skills, but he had to reluctantly concede that however good he was, Yassen was probably better. A sixteen-year-old in pyjamas was unlikely to beat a trained killer – and Yassen was armed. 

That was another thought. Could Alex somehow get his hands on the weapon? Even if he did, could he bring himself to shoot Yassen? He could always aim for the leg, he supposed. 

After lying there for some time turning things over in his head, Alex decided the best option was still to try and sneak out without Yassen noticing. The man had to sleep at some point. All Alex had to do was wait a few hours and then try again. Yassen surely wouldn’t expect him to try again right away.

Having waited impatiently for as long as he could, Alex decided to make his move. The house was silent, and if he waited any longer he’d lose his nerve. The question was, which way? 

He eased the window open again and looked out. The external lights were still on, making concealment impossible. If Yassen was somehow watching, he’d be seen before he could get twenty paces. No, his best course was out of the front door, assuming he could do it without being electrocuted, and then either try for the car or run straight down the drive. He’d improvise.

The first obstacle was to get out of his room. There were trellis wires beneath the vine, and having managed to break a section off, Alex went to work. Hopefully Yassen wouldn’t anticipate his lockpicking abilities either. Finally the lock clicked and Alex was out in the corridor. This had to be his best chance. 

He didn’t even make it to the top of the stairs.

A door opened without warning as he was passing, a hand reached out, and he was grabbed and yanked inside.

Alex found himself in what was presumably Yassen’s bedroom. There was a laptop open on the chest of drawers with a split screen view of several camera feeds and Alex groaned. No wonder the man had never had any difficulties finding him, he’d never even thought of hidden cameras. What the fuck was this place? 

“Pervert,” accused Alex on principle, wondering uncomfortably if there was a camera in his bedroom – or bathroom, for that matter. 

“There is no camera in your room,” Yassen said, guessing the direction of his thoughts. “Only the shared areas. And the exterior,” he added. “Now. Where do you think you were going?”

“I was looking for you,” Alex lied.

“I locked you in.” Yassen’s look was assessing, as if Alex continued to surprise him. 

“You must have been mistaken.”

“I don’t make mistakes.” Yassen had backed him up against the door, and Alex licked his lips nervously. Yassen had apparently been getting ready for bed and was half-undressed, clad only in shirt and boxer shorts. “But suppose I accept your flimsy excuse. You were looking for me? You have found me. What can I do for you?”

Unable to meet his steely gaze any longer, Alex’s eyes dropped unconsciously to Yassen’s mouth. There was something unnerving about how this whole situation was making him feel. Prickly all over, and not from fear. At least, not totally. 

While Yassen might be verbally threatening there was also an air of controlled patience about him, and Alex realised that for all his warnings Yassen hadn’t actually hurt him yet. Well, other than electrocuting him, which Alex had technically done to himself. And hitting him with a van. Okay, so maybe he had. But somehow those things didn’t feel like they counted as much as a fist to the face or a kick in the ribs would have. 

Yassen was waiting for his answer, Alex realised. 

“I was lonely.”

Yassen smiled, but there was no warmth to it. “And you wanted some company? How sweet. Perhaps you thought you could seduce me? Weaken my resolve?”

Alex could hardly deny it had crossed his mind. The thought that Yassen was possibly interested in him was an intoxicating one. That a man so dangerous might be attracted to him was kind of a turn on, even if it was in such a dominating, threatening way. Or maybe because of that. 

To his alarm Alex could feel himself getting hard and blushed, praying that Yassen’s gaze stayed on his face. The loose pyjamas wouldn’t hide much. 

“Perhaps I should teach you how dangerous it is to play games?” Yassen murmured, taking Alex’s chin between finger and thumb. “Show you what happens to little prick-teases?”

“You wouldn’t.” It came out as a croak. 

“Oh, I would.” Yassen took him by the arms and shoved him down onto the bed. “Nobody knows you’re here Alex. I can do what I like to you. I did warn you, quite clearly. I can only assume your continued disobedience is intended as a come-on.”

“You can’t hurt me. They’ll be looking for me,” Alex protested, scooting backwards up the bed. Yassen crawled after him, slow and lithe, and Alex bit down on a squeak of alarm.

“Nobody’s looking for you.” It sounded too dismissive to be a bluff.

“What do you mean?” Alex asked, going cold, but Yassen ignored him in favour of crawling on top of him.

“Get off me!”

“I thought you were lonely?”

“I didn’t mean this.”

“Didn’t you?” Yassen’s hand came to rest on the incriminating bulge in Alex’s pyjamas. “Then I must say you appear to have convinced yourself.” He gave it a considering squeeze. “Have you ever been with a man, Alex?”

“No. And I’m not offering now.”

“Maybe I’ll take it anyway. Or maybe you secretly want it?”

This was closer to Alex’s thoughts than he liked, but he suspected the reality would be a lot different from the fantasy, and Yassen had no reason to make it good for him.

“No,” Alex breathed as Yassen brought his full weight down on top of him, hands clamped around his wrists tightly enough to bruise. Alex was guiltily, achingly hard and Yassen rubbed against him slowly, grinding his own erection against Alex’s swollen dick.

“Fuck.” Alex choked, hands scrabbling uselessly at Yassen’s shoulders as he thrust remorselessly against him. “Fuck. No. Please.” But his hips were pushing up into the contact of their own accord and he knew he was going to come, knew this would be humiliating, knew he couldn’t stop himself.

Alex buried his face in Yassen’s shoulder to hide his expression as a second later he came helplessly hard, a hot mortifying spurt in his pyjamas.

Yassen just kept thrusting wordlessly against him until he finally came too, stilling the movement of his hips and hiding his expression just as Alex had. When he sat up there was a dark wet stain on the front of his underwear. He leaned over and opened the bedside drawer and Alex froze at the implications of that, then wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or even more worried when Yassen fished out a pair of handcuffs. Before Alex knew what was happening he’d clipped one of Alex’s wrist to the bedframe.

“What the fuck?” Alex protested, and Yassen gave him a smirk. 

“In case you get any ideas about running off while I'm in the shower.”

“What about me?” 

“You get to sleep in it.”

He disappeared into the en-suite, and Alex groaned. His pyjama bottoms were was unpleasantly wet against his skin. He debated taking them off, but that would mean lying there half-naked when Yassen came back. He wasn’t sure he wanted to put that temptation in front of him.

When Yassen returned, he’d put on clean shorts and t-shirt. Alex tensed when he got into the bed next to him, but Yassen made no further move to touch him.

“I’d get in, you’ll be cold otherwise,” Yassen said neutrally.

“You could just let me go back to my own bed,” Alex suggested, realising Yassen really meant to keep him here all night. 

“I’d rather have you where I can keep an eye on you. Perhaps you will be less inclined to disobey me then.”

Yassen turned out the light, and as far as Alex could tell, went to sleep straight away.

After a while Alex gave in and got under the duvet. He’d tried and failed to break the handcuff chain while Yassen was in the shower, so he had to give in for now. Maybe three escape attempts in a row was too many. He had to wait for Yassen to let his guard down again.

Alex eventually went to sleep turning escape ideas over in his mind, thoroughly determined not to let himself think about what had just happened. 

–

In the morning Alex woke to find he was alone in the bed and the handcuff key was on the bedside table. 

Grumbling, he unlocked himself and went back to his own room to shower, not quite liking to use Yassen’s bathroom. As he washed himself off, he finally let himself consider the events of the night before. He had to admit, it could have been a lot worse. It hardly even counted as a punishment, although Alex supposed that depended on how seriously Yassen had taken his half-hearted protests. Not very, he suspected.

Alex wondered what Ian would have said if he could have seen him last night. When he’d been coming to terms with his own sexuality, Alex had wondered more than once if Ian was gay himself. His uncle had never brought any girlfriends home and Alex had wondered if it ran in the family. Now he realised Ian had probably never had any partners because of his job. 

His father had married though. Alex suddenly froze as an unpleasant thought hit him. Had John got Alex’s mother killed because of what he was? Was that why Ian had avoided relationships? 

Alex was hit by a fresh wave of burning resentment. Everyone who had ever been supposed to take care of him had ended up dead because of who and what they were, and it turned out he hadn’t even known what that was. Everyone had lied to him, and now everyone had left him. Maybe ending up in bed with his uncle’s murderer was a fitting fuck you to all of them. 

When he came out of the shower Alex contemplated the pyjamas he’d taken off. They’d dried overnight, but there were incriminating stains on the crotch. There were clean ones in the drawer, but - 

A few minutes later he appeared in the kitchen, drawn by the smell of frying sausages. 

Yassen turned to greet him, then stopped. Alex was wearing his come-stained pyjamas like an accusation.

“Alex. Do you need clean pyjamas?”

“Why, don’t you like it? You did it.” Alex sat down at the table. “Maybe you should get me some proper clothes.”

Yassen said nothing. He took the pan off the heat, wiped his hands, then walked slowly over to the table. This put Alex on eye level with his crotch, at which point Alex realised with a jolt that Yassen had an erection. Maybe reminding him of the night before hadn’t been such a good idea after all.

“You want more?” Yassen stroked a hand over himself thoughtfully. “You like it? Being dirty?”

Alex swallowed. He’d had a lot of bad ideas in his time, but this was turning out to be a doozy. He watched silently as Yassen unzipped himself and took out his cock. For a moment he wondered what Yassen would make him do – and how willingly he would do it – but Yassen just stood over him, jerking himself increasingly roughly.

Yassen wasn’t touching him, Alex could have shoved his chair back and made a break for it, but somehow he stayed rooted to the spot, transfixed by the sight of Yassen pumping himself to a rapid climax inches from his face. 

Alex’s eyes flinched shut as Yassen came messily and deliberately all over him, warm wet drops splattering his face and chest.

When he opened his eyes again Yassen was tucking himself away. 

“Go and sort yourself out,” he ordered shortly.

Alex went, sincerely hoping Yassen had just meant to wash and that he hadn’t noticed the erection sticking up in Alex’s filthy pyjamas. 

As he stood under the shower for the second time in twenty minutes and wiped the smeared semen from his face, one finger slid into his mouth despite himself, sucking the taste of Yassen from his skin. Alex couldn’t help it, he wrapped the same hand around himself and started a fast, desperate wank. 

It shouldn’t have turned him on. Alex had never seen himself as a passive person, but there was something about Yassen’s easy control that made him weak at the knees. The man didn’t have to shout or hurt him, there was just something in his manner that made Alex instinctively obey him.

He wondered what Yassen would do if he came down again in the same stained pyjamas. Would he fuck him over the kitchen table this time? The mental image was enough to finish him off, and Alex came with a shudder all over the tiles. 

In the end he went back downstairs in a clean set, the thought of putting the soiled pyjamas back on just too revolting. 

Yassen merely gave him a nod of approval, and set a plate of food in front of him. 

“Hope you washed your hands,” Alex muttered. 

Yassen turned away so he wouldn’t see the smile on his face. Alex was not one to be cowed, and he liked that. Perhaps more than he should. 

–

Over the course of the day Alex considered his options. Yassen was keeping a closer eye on him now which meant direct escape was currently out of the question, but what if he could call for help? He knew Yassen had a phone because he’d heard it ring, and then there was the laptop. Getting hold of the phone might be tricky but Alex couldn’t see the laptop anywhere, which might mean it was still in Yassen’s bedroom.

“I’m going to bed.” Alex stood up, glad when Yassen merely glanced in his direction and nodded. It wasn’t that late, but there was little else to do other than investigate the tedious looking books in the library.

Upstairs, Alex opened the door to Yassen’s room cautiously – he wouldn’t put it past the bloody man to have booby-trapped it, or to have somehow teleported here ahead of him for that matter – but the room was dark and empty. He turned on the light and sure enough the laptop was sitting on the chest of drawers where he’d last seen it.

Alex belatedly realised it was probably password protected and frowned. What the hell would Yassen’s password be? Vodka69? He was probably one of those annoying people who had a genuinely random string of numbers and letters _and_ memorised it. Still, no point in creating obstacles ahead of the facts. He opened the lid, and to his surprise the camera view came up right away. No password. That was incredible luck, and somewhat surprising. 

Then Alex looked down, and his heart sank. The keyboard was in Cyrillic.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Alex turned guiltily to find Yassen leaning in the doorway. He came right in and closed the door behind him.

“I was bored. There’s no telly. I wanted to watch a film and your laptop’s the only option.”

Alex was getting used to Yassen’s expression of mild amusement at his excuses. He supposed he should just be glad Yassen found them funny.

“What did you want to watch?” Yassen closed the laptop lid with a click, making it clear he had in no way bought Alex’s blustering.

“I was thinking maybe a Bond film. Something where a Russian gets his comeuppance.”

The words Russian and come in the same sentence abruptly felt more suggestive than he’d intended, and Alex tried to wander past nonchalantly. “Well, if you’re not interested I’ll be going.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested.” Yassen reached out and caught him by the waist. 

“I meant in the film.”

“If you’re bored I can liven things up for you. And teach you, perhaps, not to snoop in other people’s things.” Without warning Yassen pushed him down onto the bed and Alex lay there, shocked and winded, as Yassen unbuckled his belt. 

“You wouldn’t.”

“What makes you think that?” Yassen unzipped himself and dropped his trousers. Alex tried unsuccessfully not to stare at the bulge in his pants. “Take off your pyjamas.”

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll fuck you with them round your knees like a slut.”

Alex squirmed, mainly to try and hide the fact he was suddenly and embarrassingly hard. It did him no good, Yassen seized the bottom of his pyjama legs and peeled them off him. 

To Alex’s relief Yassen made no reference to the fact he already had an erection, but it clearly hadn’t escaped his notice. 

“Turn over. On your front,” Yassen directed. 

Alex made a sudden break for freedom, starting to move as if he was doing as he was told, then darting off the bed and towards the door. He hadn’t got two paces before Yassen’s hands were on him. Alex tried to spin into a karate kick, reaching at the same time for Yassen’s wrists, trying to use his own strength against him. Hoping that, like the lock-picking, Yassen wouldn’t expect it from him.

Expected or not, Yassen’s training was far superior to Alex’s and Alex found himself thrown onto the bed once more and this time pinned down, face in the pillow, arm twisted behind him, knee in the middle of his back. He groaned, trying to wriggle out of the hold but Yassen’s grip was too strong.

His pyjama top was ripped off him and he squirmed on the bed, naked and vulnerable. He felt Yassen moving about behind him and realised with a shock that he was taking his clothes off too.

“Are you going to be nice to me Alex, or are you going to make me force you?” 

“Why should I, if I don’t have a choice either way?”

“In the first scenario I use lubricant.”

Alex shivered. This didn’t seem real. How could Ian have abandoned him to such a situation, he wondered angrily. Whatever happened to him now was a direct consequence of Ian’s choices, both in his career and in keeping Alex in the dark. If there had been a possibility of their home being invaded by assassins, hadn’t Alex had a right to know that? To be prepared?

Right now it looked like he was about to be prepared in an entirely different way. Alex squirmed as Yassen ran an assessing hand over his backside, but he’d stopped resisting. 

Alex was lying face down, breathing hard and tense all over but resigned to what was to come. And if he was honest, more than a little excited. His dick was already rigid, pressed between his belly and the duvet beneath. Hadn’t he jerked off to the very thought of this? The reality was a whole lot scarier and would probably hurt more, but he didn’t think Yassen intended lasting damage. In fact wasn’t it safer if Alex just let him do what he liked? It could hardly be said to be Alex’s fault. And if he parted his legs willingly when Yassen pushed at his thighs, who was to know? 

This time when Yassen opened the bedside drawer, there was no need for him to bring out the handcuffs. 

Alex had expected to be fucked immediately but instead he felt fingers exploring him, sticky with lube. One pushed inside him, thick and intrusive and Alex buried his face in the pillow, trying not to cry out.

“Regretting it yet?” Yassen enquired, perhaps curious that Alex hadn’t begged him to stop. 

“Fuck you,” Alex said, muffled by the pillow. Yassen didn’t dignify that with a reply but the finger inside him pushed deeper and he temporarily forgot how to breathe.

Alex fisted his hands into the bedclothes as Yassen proceeded to work him open, two fingers deep, making him pant and whimper with every twist. Alex had never experienced anything like it. He felt exposed and vulnerable, and part of him hated that it felt so good. 

He half wanted Yassen to hurt him instead so he could properly hate him. In a way it would have been easier if Yassen had just held him down and raped him. He wouldn’t be biting his lips closed to stop words like ‘yes’ and ‘God’ and ‘please’ spilling out of them. 

When Alex thought he couldn’t possibly take any more Yassen withdrew his fingers and Alex felt the head of his cock pressing against his hole instead.

“Fuck.” Alex buried his face in the pillow, too overcome to say no and not even sure he wanted to. So far Yassen had made him feel more good than bad. Maybe this wouldn’t hurt much after all.

It did. Alex muffled his cries deeper in the pillow as Yassen pushed inside him. He wasn’t brutal about it, but Alex had never done this before and as thorough as Yassen had been with his fingers it hadn’t prepared Alex for the feeling of what came next.

Alex’s breathing was fast and shallow as Yassen fucked into him with a merciless rhythm. He was beyond caring what Yassen thought now, moaning with every thrust that shook him from head to toe. 

By the time Yassen was finished with him Alex had come twice, spurting his release helplessly into the bedclothes, once with Yassen’s hand around him, once simply untouched and too overcome to stop himself. When he finally felt the wet rush of Yassen’s own orgasm inside him Alex was too spent to do more than lie there quivering beneath him, pliant and breathless. 

For a long moment after Yassen pulled out Alex didn’t move, trying to pull himself together again and come to terms with what had just happened. He wasn’t entirely sure how to think of it. To tell himself Yassen had forced him meant he didn’t have to take any responsibility for it. On the other hand he didn’t like thinking of himself as the victim and he also had the uncomfortable feeling that Yassen had been responding to his own unspoken signals. 

_Could_ he have said no? Alex suspected if he’d genuinely apologised and promised to behave there was a good chance he’d have been allowed to go back to his room unmolested. But he hadn’t wanted that. Had he?

Alex shakily rolled onto his side, wiping tears of exertion from his face and taking a steadying breath. Yassen was still lying right there next to him and Alex realised what he chose to do next was likely to set the tone of everything that happened afterwards. He could flee back to his room – assuming he was allowed to this time – or he could stay and demand comfort for what Yassen had just taken from him. To retreat, or to remain? One suggested he’d been helpless. The other admitted that he’d been a more or less willing participant. 

In the end he shuffled closer and slumped tiredly against Yassen’s chest. 

Yassen looked down at Alex in some surprise and after a second’s hesitation settled his arms around him. He’d expected him to want to leave, and had been braced for tears or anger or recriminations. Yassen had been sure Alex was at least partly into it or he wouldn’t have done it, but he hadn’t been at all certain Alex would admit that to himself, let alone to Yassen.

He could feel Alex trembling slightly and tightened his hold on the boy, petting him soothingly. Slowly Alex relaxed, the tension seeping out of him as his breathing evened and his heartrate slowed, the post-orgasmic glow dulling the lingering pain. The fact that Yassen had both recognised he needed reassurance and let him have it had come as a relief. If he’d been turned out or spoken unkindly to it might have been the last straw.

Eventually Alex lifted his head. He felt sore and filthy, but the fact Yassen had indulged his wordless plea for comfort had returned his courage to him and also suggested pushing the limits might not result in anything too terrible after all. 

“May I shower?” 

“Yes, of course.”

This time Alex went into the en-suite. He wasn’t sure he could make it back to his own room, and oddly wasn’t sure he wanted to be on his own after what had just happened either. 

When he came out again he discovered Yassen had changed the duvet cover for a clean one. He was still naked, and indicated that Alex should join him in the bed.

Too tired to argue, Alex climbed in next to him. 

“Please. No cuffs tonight,” he begged. “I won’t run away.” 

“I’m not worried about you running anywhere right now. You’ll barely be able to walk tomorrow.”

“You’re not that big,” Alex muttered.

“You will ache, in the morning,” Yassen said, hiding a smile. “Perhaps this will teach you to do as you’re told?”

“You think you can stop me trying to escape?”

“Every time you disobey me you will suffer the consequences.”

Alex shivered. After what they’d just done, he wasn’t entirely sure if that was a threat or a promise.

It also placed control firmly in his hands and Alex realised with a flush of guilty shame that maybe he wanted this. He was angry with the world as a whole right now and letting Yassen fuck him out of spite ticked a lot of boxes.

–

Over the next few weeks they fell into a pattern. Alex attempted a variety of methods to escape the house and Yassen invariably, caught up with him. It wasn’t – quite – a game, but somehow there were unspoken rules they both understood. If Alex behaved, then Yassen didn’t touch him. If he tried to break out again, then Yassen would ensure he was left in a state such that he wouldn’t be running anywhere for a while. At least, not until he’d had a shower. 

After a few instances of carrying the struggling Alex up to his bedroom, Yassen started carrying lube around with him. The following afternoon he surprised Alex in the library attempting to climb up inside the wide chimney-place, and then surprised him again by fucking him right there on the rug.

Two days after that, having managed to short out the electrical circuit Yassen had sabotaged the ground floor exits with, Alex tried to climb out of the dining room window. Yassen had apparently been waiting for him to do exactly that, and brought the sash down on him when he was halfway out. Trapped beneath the heavy window frame Alex felt his pyjama bottoms disappear, exposing his bare arse to the world. 

Afterwards, lying on his bed where Yassen had had to carry him after all, having left him in no fit state to walk, Alex reflected on his new existence. He knew – and suspected Yassen did too – that his escape attempts were half-hearted at best. Equally Yassen’s attentions, while usually on the rough side had never tipped over from sex into violence, and he never failed to make Alex come at least once and always first.

Alex lay there feeling deliciously raw, exploring himself with fingers dipping into the wetness still inside him. What had he become? The guilty thrill of being held down, the futile struggle, the moment of penetration – God it shouldn’t make him this hard.

–

Days turned into weeks, and before Alex had really been aware of it a month had gone past. He’d been alone here with Yassen all that time, and the days were blurring into one. 

Yassen had left the house only a couple of times, and had handcuffed Alex on both occasions. It made Alex realise Yassen must think he was genuinely capable of escaping in his absence and it made him all the more determined to try. 

The consequences of failure were by now predictable, and not unwelcome. 

Alex hardly knew who he was any more. His life – his family – had been a lie from start to finish. Yassen had told him what little he knew about his father, but that only went so far and Yassen had even admitted that what he remembered of John could have been mostly an act. The only person who could have told Alex the truth about his parents was Ian, and he was gone for good. 

Alex found he no longer blamed Yassen for Ian’s death. He was even obscurely grateful to him in a way, for exposing the truth. Would Ian have ever told him, otherwise? Had he really been preparing Alex for the same existence? A life of gruelling danger, pointless death and achievements hidden even after burial. Alex felt sick whenever he thought of it. The only thing that could drive the maddening thoughts from his mind was to get brutally fucked again, so he’d go out and look for another way to attempt an escape.

It crossed his mind more than once that he could just walk up to Yassen and say he wanted sex. He didn’t imagine he’d deny him, knew this was as much a game of excuses to the Russian as it was to him. But it was a last barrier he couldn’t overcome. While they kept up the pretence that Alex wasn’t consenting to any of this he retained a little bit of pride. He wondered idly what it would be like just making love with Yassen, soft and slow and gentle. But the thought passed without much interest. It wasn’t what he wanted or needed right now. He was full of nebulous rage, and being fucked face down on the floor with his arms twisted behind his back was unexpectedly cathartic.

–

It was the feeling of loneliness that finally did it, growing insidiously day by day. Lying in bed one night, Alex couldn't bear it any longer. He knew Yassen was in the room a couple of doors down. He could just go in, talk to him. There was nothing to say he couldn’t. Maybe Yassen would fuck him, maybe he wouldn’t. 

Yassen was sitting up reading when the door cracked open and Alex inched into the room. He gave him a surprised look, but said nothing as Alex slunk over to the bed and climbed in next to him. Alex curled up with his back to him. He was tense, feeling simultaneously embarrassed and nervous. Yassen might not unreasonably decide this was an offer of sex.

After a moment, while Alex pictured Yassen staring at his back, he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. He flinched at the initial touch, but Yassen’s hand didn’t do anything else, just lay there a while, a warm weight through the material of his pyjama top. Alex gradually relaxed, and after a while the hand disappeared. 

After another twenty minutes or so Yassen put his book down and turned out the light. Alex felt him shift closer in the dark and an exploratory hand trailed over his hip. Alex reached down and captured his hand, drawing it up to his chest. It had stopped Yassen feeling him up but it had also had the effect of pulling Yassen’s arm around him in a hug, and Yassen settled against his back, pulling Alex into a snug embrace.

“I thought perhaps you had come here in need of something,” Yassen murmured against his hair.

Alex shook his head. “Just sleep,” he mumbled, and felt Yassen give a quiet laugh. 

“Alright.” Yassen settled more comfortably against him, but he didn’t withdraw his arm. Alex fell asleep curled in the curve of his body.

He was woken before dawn by the ringing of Yassen’s phone.

Alex blinked awake as Yassen turned on the light and answered it, sounding so wide awake Alex wondered blearily if he’d even been asleep at all. 

The conversation from Yassen’s end was brief and un-illuminating but when he hung up he gave Alex a considering look that made him squirm.

“What is it?” 

“Time for me to leave. My employers are happy that the circumstances of your uncle’s death has not been connected to me. I am needed elsewhere.”

“What do they say about me?” Alex asked uneasily. He was the only thing now that could link Yassen to the murder and while he didn’t think Yassen _wanted_ to kill him, he was painfully aware of the fact that wouldn’t necessarily stop him if he thought it was necessary.

Yassen studied him, tapping a thoughtful finger against his lips. “They don’t know about you.”

Alex’s head came up. “What? They don’t know I’m here at all?” 

“I haven’t told them,” Yassen admitted.

“Why not?”

“Because as a witness they would certainly order me to kill you,” Yassen said calmly, and Alex swallowed. 

“So – does that mean you’re actually going to let me go?” he asked carefully. It didn’t sound like Yassen wanted him dead, he just wasn’t sure what the alternatives were. 

Yassen sighed. “The practicalities of keeping you are regrettably too complicated.” He narrowed his eyes. “If I let you go back - can I trust you Alex? To keep your mouth shut?”

“Given that I’m fairly sure you’ll kill me if I don’t? Yeah! Besides, how do I explain I’ve been shacked up with my uncle’s killer for over a month? Hardly likely to go down well, is it?”

Yassen bit back a smile. “Technically I kidnapped you. You could tell them that quite honestly. Tell them I abducted and raped you.” Alex shivered, Yassen was close to him, the soft breath on his neck making him prickle with need, and Yassen’s words were already making him hard. “Would you tell them that Alex? Would you explain what I did to you, in graphic detail, to a room full of strangers? Would you tell them how you spread your legs for me, how you fought me less and less?” His hand rubbed over Alex’s tented crotch. “No, I don’t think you would.” 

“What do I tell them then?” Alex asked, trying to concentrate despite the stroking of Yassen’s hand over his increasingly needy erection.

“Say you’ve been away. Out of contact and travelling. That it all comes as a surprise to you. I have already arranged it to look like you’ve been out of the country.”

So that was why nobody had been looking for him. 

“What about the chip?” Alex asked. 

“What chip?”

“That you...” Alex broke off, realisation dawning. “Oh you bastard.”

Yassen smirked. “Why go to all the trouble, when the threat works just as well?”

“I hate you.” 

“Good.” Yassen pushed him down into the sheets and straddled him. “You should hate me. You should be afraid of me. And you should keep your mouth shut accordingly.” 

All Alex’s mouth wanted right now was to have Yassen’s lips crushed against it, and it didn’t take long before he got what he wanted.

–

Yassen arranged for Alex to arrive home with a rucksack and new clothes, and a cover story of having spent the summer break travelling around Europe, that he promised would hold up if investigated. 

Alex wasn’t sure what he’d feel walking into the house, but there was just a curious emptiness. Had this ever been his home? His uncle hadn’t been who he said he was. Had he even wanted Alex there? 

Alex wasn’t surprised when the doorbell went not long after his arrival. The woman on the doorstep introduced herself as Mrs Jones. And for the second time that summer, Alex’s life changed beyond all recognition. 

–

It wasn’t long into his new life that Alex had the first inkling his experience with Yassen might have had lasting effects. 

Dispatched on a hasty training exercise in the Brecon Beacons with a commando unit that he hadn’t got off to the best of starts with, finding himself backed against a wall by a group of threatening men in camouflage gear Alex had the sudden embarrassing realisation that he had an erection. 

The thought made him blink. Feeling scared, angry and threatened wasn’t supposed to turn you on. Was it? Shit. He had a sudden flashback to Yassen shoving him against a wall and pinning him there with his hips and had a hot flush all over.

The leader of the group he knew only as Wolf was staring at him, slightly more uncertainly than he had been a second ago, and Alex wondered what his expression had shown. He’d certainly gone from scared to horny, and he looked up at the larger man with a calculating smirk, suddenly seeing his way out of this.

“What are you gonna do, big man? You want a piece of this? Teenage boys get you hard do they?”

“Shut up,” Wolf said roughly, shoving Alex’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, harder daddy,” Alex mocked, and was gratified when several of the other team started sniggering. Wolf looked furious, and Alex wondered if he was going to get a fist in his face for his trouble, but he abruptly spun round and stormed off, the rest following. 

Left alone, Alex sagged. He’d avoided a beating, but the realisation that he really had been turned on by the fleeting idea of being gang-raped was not a comfortable one to come to terms with. 

–

Several eventful weeks later Alex had become on rather friendlier terms with Wolf, and his thoughts had been dwelling ever since on what he might be able to talk the larger man into doing.

“Don’t suppose you want to get a drink?” Alex suggested as they walked tiredly out of a debriefing into the late afternoon. 

“You’re not old enough to drink,” Wolf frowned. MI6 might be happy to use a boy of sixteen for their own ends but that didn’t mean he had to be comfortable with it.

“I’m old enough to fuck?” Alex offered hopefully. “We could always skip the drink.”

Wolf just looked at him in abject horror, and Alex sighed inwardly. It looked like his fantasies about being pounded through the nearest mattress would have to stay that way.

–

As time went by, Alex found his initial forays into the dating world were equally unedifying. He found no shortage of willing partners, but none of them seemed capable of giving him what he wanted. He rarely gave any of them his real name, preferring to drift between practically anonymous encounters in search of something intangible. 

His latest partner he’d picked up in a bar. He was fairly sure he was called Dan, but he avoided using it in case he’d remembered wrongly. It didn’t appear he was going to be yelling it in the throes of passion, after all.

Alex stared at the ceiling, watching a cobweb thread drift to and fro in an air current. He was lying back on the sofa, legs spread as his hook-up fucked him, but all he felt was bored and unsatisfied. It wasn’t Dan’s fault. How did he explain he wanted it harder, wanted to be held down, wanted someone to tell him he was bad and dirty and going to be hurt? 

After what felt like hours Alex eventually managed to make himself come, an unsatisfying climax that he couldn’t even be bothered to fake a moan for.

He wiped himself down and already knew he’d never see the guy again.

–

Alex took to going to the seedier nightclubs, ones frequented by squaddies were useful, he could almost guarantee he’d end the night getting fucked in an alleyway, trousers round his ankles, face up against the brickwork. 

But after these liaisons he’d go home and stand blankly in the shower under searing hot water, trying to wash away the memory of everything but the orgasm. He knew what he was doing was dangerous in any number of ways. He didn’t even like it. He hated the fact he needed it, hated that he came home to an empty house every time, but it was a depressing truth that the men who wanted to cuddle didn’t usually want to hurt him, and the ones he’d met who wanted to hurt him weren’t interested in holding him afterwards. 

Hopeful that the man of his dreams might yet be out there if he just looked in the right place Alex tried an S&M club, but left again without hooking up. It didn’t feel like what he was looking for at all. He had no explicit desire to be punished or disciplined as such, and the thought of nipple clamps and canings left him cold. He had a very specific set of desires, and the awkward fact remained that the only man who fit his fantasies was the one who’d given them to him in the first place. 

Somewhat to Alan Blunt’s surprise given his initial reluctance, Alex started volunteering for more missions. What Blunt didn’t know was Alex’s ulterior motive, the one he barely admitted to himself – that he hoped one day he might run into Yassen again. 

He knew the man was out there – Gregorovich was a name that frequently cropped up in briefings and Alex knew a lot more about him now than he had before – but so far their paths hadn’t crossed in the field. Alex didn’t know what he’d do if it happened – hardly knew whether he wanted to punch him or kiss him – but what could you do, when the man of your dreams also happened to be the man of your nightmares?

Alex stopped seeing other people and invested instead in a drawer-full of sex toys. Lying alone in his bed he could close his eyes and pretend he was being violated over and over by the shadowy men of his imagination. Sometimes it was fantasy figures like Wolf, sometimes it was brutal, faceless strangers. Mostly it was Yassen. 

He’d come hard, clenching around the thick dildo he was shoving into himself, smearing his own come over his chest and pretending it was someone else’s. Or shoving his own balled-up underwear into his mouth as a gag, rocking face down on the bed, a vibrating rubber cock inserted as far as it would go.

He’d roll away from the wet patch, sated but lonely, and fall asleep with his arms wrapped around himself for comfort.

–

Eventually, almost two years since Alex had been returned home, it finally happened. 

He was in Amsterdam with Wolf, wrapping up a terrorist blackmail operation when the final back-up sent in by Scorpia turned out to be Yassen.

Alex saw Yassen before Yassen saw him, and for a second he couldn’t breathe. Just being in the same room it felt like all the oxygen had vanished, and he thought surely, surely Yassen must feel it too.

But Yassen was preoccupied with the fact Wolf was currently pointing a gun at him, and it was at that moment Alex had the crushing realisation that Yassen might not even be interested in him. What if he hadn’t thought about Alex once over the intervening years? This obsession of his – how likely was it that Yassen felt the same? Somehow in all his obsessive fantasising it had never occurred to Alex that he might not. 

Yassen finally saw him. He barely reacted, but Alex, who’d been staring at him intently noticed the way he went suddenly still. 

For a split-second that felt to Alex like a lifetime they stared at each other before Yassen returned his attention to Wolf as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and Alex remembered how to breathe.

It had become something of a stand-off. Taken by surprise by Yassen’s sudden appearance, Wolf hadn’t shot on sight but that meant Yassen now had a gun on him too. 

Somehow Alex had to break the deadlock. He could hardly turn his own weapon on Wolf, but maybe there was something else he could do. Taking a deep breath, Alex stepped into the line of fire, blocking Wolf’s shot. He hoped it didn’t look deliberate, hoped too, that Yassen wouldn’t just shoot him himself.

Yassen reacted like a whip, seizing Alex, pulling him against his body and pressing the gun to his temple. Alex could feel the cold metal digging into his skin and tried very very hard not to move.

“Alex and I will be leaving now,” Yassen said dryly. “Please don’t think about following us, if you want him back in one piece.”

Angry but helpless, Wolf had to signal the team to let them go. 

Alex was dragged at gunpoint out of the building and down a sidestreet to where a car was parked. As soon as Yassen let him go Alex spun to face him, expecting if nothing else a knock out blow, but Yassen was just staring at him curiously.

“Why did you do that?” he asked finally. “You’re not stupid. Which means it had to be deliberate. Why did you help me?”

Alex swallowed. There was no time for lengthy explanations, Wolf wouldn’t be far behind. “Take me with you.”

“What?” Yassen looked genuinely surprised, then suspicious. Alex shook his head. 

“It’s not a set-up,” Alex said awkwardly. “I just – oh God, please, I’ll explain later.”

The sounds of pursuit were getting closer and Yassen made up his mind. “Fine. Get in.”

–

Yassen took him to a fine period building overlooking one of the quieter canals, and up to an apartment on the top floor.

Alex looked around with interest. It had a far more lived-in feel than the previous house and he looked at Yassen curiously. 

“Is this your apartment?”

Yassen glanced at him, then sighed. “One of them, yes.” 

Alex felt a flush of something indefinable that Yassen had brought him into his own home. He’d trusted him not to talk two years ago. It looked like he trusted him to keep quiet about this too.

“So. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Yassen perched on the arm of the sofa and folded his arms, looking expectant. 

Alex shifted uncomfortably. “What do you mean?”

Yassen had stayed silent on the drive here, but despite having had time to work out what to say, Alex was still drawing a blank. In his fantasies they hadn’t done a whole lot of talking.

“I mean what are you doing here?” Yassen didn’t sound particularly annoyed about Alex’s unexpected presence, he was watching him with a faint air of amusement. “Last time you couldn’t wait to get away from me.”

Last time. Even the memory of it was enough to make Alex experience a frisson of excitement. All his half-hearted escape attempts, all the times Yassen had pretended to punish him. Christ. 

“You left me with something of an unwelcome present,” Alex muttered. This was going to be excruciatingly awkward, but if it ultimately got him laid he’d gladly suffer any amount of humiliation.

Yassen gave him a curious look. “Well I’m fairly sure I couldn’t have got you pregnant,” he smiled, and Alex gave a huff of laughter, splaying a hand over his belly. “And I don’t believe it’s possible for me to pass on any viruses, so it can’t be that.”

“Really?” Alex looked surprised and Yassen shrugged.

“Long story. Don’t ask.”

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you isn’t there?”

“Yes, well I’m not getting to know you any quicker either at this rate, get to the point.”

Alex flushed. “I guess – everything we did, it – kind’ve imprinted on me somehow,” he said awkwardly. “It was my first time, you know? To have it be like that – now I can’t – ” he sighed. “I can’t get off unless I’m imagining someone’s forcing me,” he muttered in a rush.

Yassen stared at him and Alex fidgeted. “It’s screwing my life up,” Alex blurted. “I can’t have a normal relationship, I can’t come unless it’s rough, and even then – it’s not the same,” he admitted, thinking about how sordid he’d felt after some of those encounters. How could he explain he was desperate for the very specific niche Yassen had filled by supposedly violating him then holding him so unquestioningly afterwards? 

“I’m sorry,” Alex said, slumping defeatedly down onto the sofa when Yassen still said nothing.

“What for?” Yassen shook his head. “It sounds like I should be the one apologising. I never imagined – ” He broke off, not knowing quite what to say. 

“I’m not normal.”

“What’s normal?” Yassen shrugged, and after a pause slid off the arm to sit next to him. “You have a specific need, that’s all,” he added quietly. “One I appear to have inadvertently given you.” Yassen hesitated. “I suppose that just means it’s up to me to satisfy it.” He let his hand came to rest on Alex’s leg, sliding up his thigh until his thumb was just brushing his groin. 

Alex’s eyes widened, looking up at him. He was stiffening rapidly, the feather-light graze of Yassen’s thumb doing more to turn him on than if he’d grabbed him with his whole hand.

“MI6 must be wondering what I’m doing with you by now,” Yassen murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against Alex’s ear. “Wondering why I haven’t let you go yet. Perhaps I should send you back to them used, hmmn?” Alex’s dick lurched as Yassen unzipped Alex’s flies and slipped his hand inside. “Do you think so, Alex? Should I send you back to them all bruised and wet?” 

Alex was breathing fast, transfixed by the low, filthy murmur of Yassen’s voice and the slow movement of his hand.

“Is that what you want Alex? Is that why you delivered yourself to me so trustingly? Did you think I wouldn’t hurt you, or is that exactly what you want? Are you going to spread your legs for me, or will I have to make you?”

Alex whimpered, he couldn’t help himself. He fisted his hand in Yassen’s shirt, yanking him forwards to close the last gap between them. Yassen kissed him hard, pushing Alex down on his back and shoving his knee between Alex’s legs, letting him rut against his thigh.

“Oh God.” Alex moaned it against Yassen’s lips, feeling his orgasm building already, it had been too long and he couldn’t hold back. 

Yassen was pressing him down into the sofa, hands rough on his shoulders, mouthing at his neck then biting down. Alex groaned out loud, jerking up against him, feeling utterly pinned and helpless. He was at the mercy of a merciless man, and the knowledge alone was enough to make him come.

Alex spilled hotly into his jeans, shaking with the shock and unexpectedness of it, then went slack.

Yassen rearranged them more comfortably next to each other and Alex lay in his arms breathing hard.

“Alright?” Yassen asked mildly, when Alex had recovered himself a little. He stroked the damp hair back from his forehead in an unexpectedly tender gesture, and Alex gave him a shaky smile.

“Thank you.” He hadn’t expected Yassen to deliver quite so immediately or thoroughly. He hadn’t even known if Yassen would be _interested_. “That was – fuck.”

Yassen gave him a slight smile. “I’m a man who takes his responsibilities very seriously,” he said. “If it’s what you need then I am more than happy to give it to you.” 

–

By the time darkness fell Alex was still there. They’d found it surprisingly easy to talk to each other, now they were on a more equal footing. Without either of them voicing it, Alex realised they were both assuming he was going to stay the night, and as the hour got later he got fidgety with nervous anticipation. 

Yassen had cooked them supper. It was an odd feeling. Alex was eighteen now and two years with MI6 had left him toughened but world-weary, but facing Yassen across the table Alex felt the echo of all the times they’d eaten together like this before, and suddenly he was a nervous sixteen year old again, waiting to be ravished. 

Having cleared away and finished off a bottle of good wine between them, Yassen finally turned to him with a speculative look.

“Since you have imposed yourself on my hospitality, I’m sure you won’t complain at having to share my bed?” he drawled. “How were you planning on paying for your night’s stay, incidentally?”

“I don’t have any money on me,” Alex said. This technically wasn’t true, but he also knew that wasn’t the point of Yassen’s question and he was already half-hard just at the implication of what was coming. 

“Maybe you can pay me in kind?” Yassen prowled closer, until he was right up in Alex’s personal space. 

Alex stalled for time. “Have you considered taking credit?” 

“Mostly I would rather take advantage.”

“Maybe I should sleep on the couch.” 

“Maybe you should give me what I want.” 

Alex had learned a lot in the last two years, and had had ample opportunity to put into practice the martial arts training he’d received as a child that had been so ineffective against Yassen’s honed skills before. This time when Yassen made a grab for him he was able to break the hold and launch a counter-attack. 

The resulting struggle was a lot closer to what Alex had imagined he should be capable of as a bewildered and indignant sixteen year old, even if the end result was simply a few more bruises when he eventually hit the bed, panting. 

Yassen’s knee was wedged between his thighs, and he could hear the Russian unzipping himself. 

Alex wriggled persistently and Yassen eventually let him roll onto his back, mainly so he could watch what he was doing. Standing between Alex’s splayed legs, Yassen slowly unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers. 

He held up a small bottle of lube for Alex to see before tossing it on the bed and Alex realised he must have pocketed it earlier with this outcome in mind. He swallowed, mouth dry with nervous anticipation. 

Yassen was blatantly hard and he unhurriedly reached down and drew his cock out of his grey jersey shorts, stroking himself slowly. He peeled off the thin jumper he was wearing but left his trousers and underwear round his knees as he picked up the lube again and started working a glistening palmful up his naked erection.

“Take your clothes off,” Yassen ordered. “And lie face down.” 

Alex unfastened his jeans with shaking hands. The knowledge that his come-soaked underpants were currently in Yassen’s bathroom bin added another guilty pulse of arousal to the proceedings. They hadn’t discussed this, hadn’t negotiated what they were going to do, he had no idea how rough Yassen would be with him, no idea if he would stop if Alex asked, and as a consequence he was already hard and leaking. Yes, theoretically they were playing, but there was a very real edge of threat to it, and the thrill of the unknown was intoxicating. Alex was only certain of one thing, whatever happened, he was going to come harder than he ever had in his life. 

When Yassen took him it was with one brutal thrust that made Alex cry out in shock and pain. Yassen might have lubed up but he hadn’t taken time to prepare Alex in any way. The hot hard cock invading his body was a world away from the dildos he’d been using, and the other thing Alex hadn’t been able to replicate was the feeling of not being in control. 

Yassen pounded into him hard and fast and Alex could do nothing but grip the bedclothes and grit his teeth. His own cock was throbbing with every brutal thrust but the edge of pain was helping his control. He wasn’t going to come as embarrassingly quickly as he had earlier. 

Yassen fucked him with a brutal stamina that left him aching inside and out. By the time Yassen was done with him Alex had already come twice, shaking with the force of it and weakly moaning as Yassen fucked him through the comedown and into another erection. By the time Yassen let his own climax take him Alex was hard again for a third time, nothing left to give and coming dry, his cheeks streaked with tears of exertion as the rush of Yassen’s orgasm inside him came as almost a soothing relief. 

Alex’s harsh breathing had been the only thing he could hear for what felt like hours and the room felt suddenly quiet as they lay against each other, slick with sweat and radiating heat. 

After a moment of recovery Yassen kicked off the rest of the clothes still tangled around his ankles and pulled Alex against him, holding him against his chest. 

“Thank you,” Alex said quietly, when he could speak again. 

Yassen looked down at him, and Alex gave a self-conscious, one-shouldered shrug. “I mean I didn’t know if you’d even be interested.” 

“I’ve thought about you a lot,” Yassen admitted.

“You have?” 

“That surprises you?”

“You never came to look for me.” Alex hoped it didn’t sound accusatory. 

“I had no reason to suppose you would ever want to see me again,” Yassen pointed out. “I imagined once you’d had time and space to think it over, you would hate me for what I did to you.”

“No.” Alex sighed. “But I didn’t know if I was just another guy to you.”

Yassen shook his head. “You think I often leave my witnesses alive?”

“I don’t know. I hardly know you at all,” Alex pointed out. “I’d like to though,” he added shyly. 

Yassen immediately hugged him closer and kissed him on the top of the head, and Alex felt warm inside. 

“Will you stay?” Yassen asked. “Or go back?”

“I suppose I’d better go back,” Alex sighed. “They’ll be wondering what’s happened to me.” 

“What will you tell them? Your handlers?” 

“Not the truth.” Alex gave him a guilty smile. “I don’t think they’d understand. I’ll say you locked me up somewhere, and I only just escaped.” He sighed, suddenly melancholy. “I guess I never really did, huh. Escape from you, I mean?”

Yassen gave him a long look, then a slight smile. “There are worse things. Sometimes what looks like a prison on the outside can mean security for the people inside it.”

“Will I see you again?”

“You would like to?”

“Very much.”

“Then yes.” Yassen smiled, running his hand up the inside of Alex’s leg. “Perhaps when you least expect it, eh?”

The implication, that Yassen might just show up one day with no warning and take him by force made Alex’s heart beat faster.

Yassen noticed the way his body responded and smiled speculatively. “You would like that?”

“Oh God yes.” 

“Then I will be there. I will take care of you Alex. In whatever ways you need.”

Alex was already picturing it. Being bundled into a car or shoved up against a wall in an alley. Being surprised in his home. The sudden hand over his mouth, the flare of fear and arousal he found so hard to separate. 

The knowledge he no longer had to worry about it, that from now on his needs would be met, was an unlooked for relief. Alex nestled closer into Yassen’s arms with a quiet sigh. In that one murmured promise of tender violence, Yassen had turned a curse into a gift. 

–


End file.
